Later, her dad had pulled her aside in the kitchen when he was helping to clear the table. ‘Congratulations again,’ he’d said quietly. ‘As long as you’re sure?’
‘Sure?’
‘I’m your dad; it’s my job to disapprove of your boyfriends,’ he’d said. ‘But, I don’t know … Dave? You’re sure?’
‘Why?’ she’d said. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ She’d spent the last year on cloud nine, assuming that everyone thought she’d won the love lottery.
‘I don’t know, nothing, I suppose,’ her dad had shrugged. ‘It’s just, well, you two seem so different. I …’
Then Dave had come through with a pile of plates and the conversation had abruptly turned to the benefits of coconut oil.
What had she been thinking? This was the absolute opposite of a Perfect Plan! This was so much worse than omitting to tell her parents about a break-up. She had a fake engagement she had to wriggle out of.
Plus, this email from the Daily News meant she was either going to have to turn down what was a pretty good chance to plug Little Accidents, her blog and her business, or somehow convince Dave that it was worth his while to come on board and wax lyrical about their non-existent relationship and – God help them – engagement.
Unless she was missing something. She’d never really got to the bottom of why Dave had decided to do a U-turn on his decision to miss dinner. And he’d stood there, mute, while she’d told her parents they were engaged. Perhaps he had taken pity on her and decided to help her out. But was it possible he was regretting their split?
After they’d waved her parents off and she’d thanked him, he’d left her with a ‘no problem’ before she’d had time to properly talk things through. At the time, she’d been too exhausted and relieved to care. But now, she wished she’d taken the chance to speak to him.
Could he possibly want her back?
‘No,’ she said aloud, dismissing the thought.
One thing was sure though – they hadn’t had time to talk the night before, but they surely had to now.
When she dialled his number she nearly hung up immediately. But then, of course, she’d probably get the answerphone and could just leave a message or something.
‘Hello?’ He answered immediately.
‘Oh, eh, hi. It’s … Jess,’ she said.
‘Yes, I know. Caller ID.’ Was he smiling? He sounded as if he was smiling. That, at least, was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
‘Ah. Yes. Look, I just wanted to say, sorry about last night.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Seriously? You don’t mind that my parents now think you’re their future,’ she lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘son-in-law?’
‘I don’t think your parents quite knew what was going on.’
‘No. I’m not sure any of us did. Thanks for not giving the game away.’
‘That’s OK. I know what your mum’s like …’ At one time she would have taken issue with his insulting her mother – it was OK for Jessica to say things about her mum, but she’d defend her to the death if anyone else started. But, in the circumstances, she let it go.
‘Yeah … Look, Dave, I’ve got a favour to ask.’
‘What, besides making an honest woman of you?’ he laughed.
‘I’m not sure that’s possible,’ she joked, weakly. ‘But look, the Daily News have asked whether they can interview me, well, us, actually. After that blog post about doing things together? There’s a fee. You can have mine, too, if you want. It’d be so good for the business, and maybe I can plug Little Accidents …’
‘Little what?’
‘Don’t worry,’ she realised that she’d barely spoken to him about the contract. ‘I just wanted to ask whether you’d be OK with, you know … Keeping things going a little longer? Just long enough to do the piece, and maybe for a bit after? The … the engagement and everything?’
‘OK. Why not?’ Considering his attitude to lying even about the dinner, this was surprisingly nonchalant.
‘You know it’ll mean everyone thinking we are actually tying the knot? Your mates? Your parents?’
‘I haven’t told anyone we’re over yet,’ he replied in a tone that suggested it was no big deal. ‘Kevin just thinks I’m stopping over at his for a bit to give you some time with Anna.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know.’ He paused. ‘I suppose maybe I was a bit hasty to, you know, leave that note. You just seemed so wrapped up in yourself; never really noticed me. I suppose …’ he stopped for a moment. ‘I suppose I wanted to see if you really cared about me.’
‘Oh Dave. Of course I care about you. Of course I …’
‘I should have told you how I felt, I suppose.’
‘Yeah. Well, it’s not always easy to be upfront about things.’ She, if anyone, knew that to be a fact. ‘Anyway, so you’re OK to do the interview?’ She tried to keep her voice calm and casual, as if it was no big deal. Inside, she was screaming. What did this mean? He’d left the note to punish her? He’d left her to make a point? Were they together or not? And did she want to be?
She’d wait until after the interview to find out. Just in case.
‘Yeah, why not.’ He said.
‘And … and a photo shoot?’
‘No probs – just let me know. Try and sort it on a Saturday.’
‘Wow. Well, thank you.’
‘So …’ he said, his voice suddenly different. ‘I suppose we’d better be getting you a ring?’
‘What?’
‘You know. For our engagement,’ he said, meaningfully.
‘Good idea.’ He was making this too easy! She’d have to get something from eBay – a bit of cubic zirconia would be bling enough for the Daily News. ‘Do you want me to sort that out?’
‘Don’t be silly – that’s my job surely?’
‘OK, thank you.’
‘So, call me?’
‘Yes, as soon as I hear.’
‘Thanks. And Jess?’
‘Yes?’
‘It was good to talk to you – fiancée!’
Jessica hung up the phone feeling more discombobulated than she would have had he lost his temper at her. He’d simply handed her everything she needed on a plate.
Perhaps it was guilt. Or perhaps something else. What if he really did want her back?
She thought about the Instagram numbers, which had fallen slightly already. And her PR clients. The article in the Daily News. And being able to work out next to Dave at the gym again.
It was probably the shock of it all, or something about not wanting to get her hopes up, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she should at the idea.
A text message suddenly flashed onto her phone. Bea. Can we meet up? Need to talk
She’d reply later, she thought, when she had things straight in her head.
Then, still reeling from it all, she left the house to pick up Anna.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Having a rest while catching up on #work. Stomach crunches later! @Fitat30
‘Good quiz questions.’
‘100 quiz questions.’
‘Best pub quiz.’
Jessica sat on the sofa, frantically googling. Liz had been right, writing quiz questions wasn’t child’s play. She’d spent most of the journey home from Grahame’s trying to think of ideas, but had found that her general knowledge was even worse than she’d thought. All the questions she could think of had sounded like the kind doctors ask in hospital when someone suffers a head injury. ‘Who is the current prime minister?’ ‘What year is it?’ ‘Do you know your own name?’
She supposed she ought to write a few celebrity-based questions, but whenever she thought of Tamzin or any of the other D-listers she’d supported over the years, all she could think of was t
he Little Accidents advert and the sequinned nappy she’d squeezed herself into.
Thank goodness for Google.
‘What are you doing?’ Anna said from the other sofa where she’d been sitting, reading her tablet since they’d got back. ‘Blogging or something?’
‘No, just looking up some info,’ she replied. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, nothing. Just wondered.’
‘Anna … Have you read my blog?’ Jessica asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
‘A bit.’ Anna blushed slightly.
For some reason, Jessica felt a bit uncomfortable. It was OK to share her body hang-ups and waxing comments with an unknown audience, but it was far too private for her twelve-year-old to read.
But it’s online. Why hadn’t it crossed her mind that Anna might look at it too?
‘Oh! Well, it’s all a bit, you know, I mean, what you read isn’t necessarily—’
‘Yeah, but you have like thousands of followers, Mum! I mean, that’s amazing!’
Jessica felt herself blush slightly. ‘Well thanks, but …’ She didn’t know how to tell her child that most of the thoughts and experiences on her blog were doctored to sound much better than they really were. And that the followers were following someone who didn’t exist.
‘I’ve got, like, four or something,’ Anna continued, her brow furrowed.
‘What? You’re blogging?’
‘No, I mean on Instagram.’
‘Oh, right. Should you be on Instagram?’
‘You said it was OK, remember? As long as I only followed people I knew. So I follow you, and Dave, and, like, a couple of kids from school.’
‘OK.’
‘But, well. Dave’s stuff is a bit weird, isn’t it?’
‘It’s just gym pics.’
‘I know, but …’ Anna went red.
Jessica thought about this morning’s post-shower towel pose.
‘And is he back from his work thing?’ added Anna. ‘Because the gym in his picture today looked like his normal one.’
Jessica felt her stomach somersault. She hadn’t mentioned Dave since she’d made the excuse to Anna about his whereabouts. ‘Yes,’ she said, slowly. ‘He’s just … um … staying with his friend for a while.’
‘Oh.’ Anna’s eyes looked directly her way. ‘Mum, has he like gone for ever?’
Looking back, Jessica realised that this had been the moment she’d had a window of opportunity to do the right thing. Then again, what was the right thing? Admitting a lie was good, but involving Anna in her deception was the opposite. Far better to leave her ignorant of it all until she’d worked out what to do.
‘Mum?’
‘Um. No. No, Anna. He’ll be back.’ It was sort of true after all; he still had some clothes to pick up. Her stomach churned in protest. Lying to your kids was OK when it came to Santa or the tooth fairy. But lying about this? She had a feeling she’d be blasted off the internet if anyone found out.
She found a site and copied and pasted a bunch of geographical and historical questions, as well as some celebrity-focused ones and hoped that they would do. After all, it was only a local quiz – hardly Mastermind or University Challenge (which, she reflected, looking at the questions, was probably a good thing).
Then she picked up Robert’s book again.
REMEMBERING RAINBOWS
ACTIVITY THREE
Let’s get physical! Next time you pass a park, take a look at the children playing there. Children tend to smile when they run, climb and jump.
Now look at an adult jogging along the road. They often look far from happy! But why? Exercise fills us with endorphins and keeps us fit – so why are we so miserable?
It’s a case of feeling we have to do something, rather than doing something because we want to. It’s hard to get a child to run if they’re not feeling like it! Equally, when the urge takes them it’s almost impossible to stop them.
The answer is to get in tune with our bodies. Of course, this doesn’t mean we should always sit on the sofa, and it certainly doesn’t mean being lazy. It’s about taking our exercise as and when we feel like it – breaking into a run during a walk to work; jumping up and down by our desk in the workplace.
Next time you feel a bit restless, try a little jog on the spot or a few star jumps. Soon you’ll find yourself incorporating exercise into your everyday activities without even trying.
And guess what – you’ll be smiling!
Was he right? she wondered. She certainly couldn’t remember ever smiling at the gym, except when posing for a pic. There was also something engaging about his tone; it made her want to try.
She was about to ask Anna if she’d fancied doing some exercises together, when her phone started to ring.
‘Hello, Jessica speaking?’
‘Hi, Jessica,’ the voice was warm and friendly, but she couldn’t place it. ‘How are you?’
‘Hi, erm …’
‘It’s April from Channel 6! We got your press release about the Remembering Rainbows book.’
‘Oh yes?’ Jessica asked feeling slightly nervous.
‘Yes. And thank you for that. Sorry we didn’t get back to you sooner, but you know …’
Jessica knew. They received thousands of press releases every day. And it had been a long shot to see if they’d feature her unknown author. She’d worked with them before a few years ago with a stylist she was promoting – they’d featured her on a debate for and against bigger eyebrows. The stylist had ended up having her own column in a beauty magazine as a result of her performance. Exposing clients to this kind of audience could be pure gold. ‘Sure,’ she said.
‘Anyway, I’m not sure how Dr Haydn is fixed tomorrow, but we’ve had a bit of a disaster this end. We’re building a feature about childhood happiness, on the back of that survey about computer games and stress last week? But Dr Marylin – you know, our usual psychologist, has come down with that sickness bug that’s going round, and we need to find someone else, sharpish.’
‘Oh right?’
‘And obviously, with Remembering Rainbows being about happiness, we immediately thought of Dr Haydn.’
Jessica glanced at her watch. It was 7 p.m. on a Sunday evening. She was willing to bet that Robert’s name was towards the bottom of a very long list. That said, she knew how it worked – and definitely knew better than to pass up an opportunity like this. ‘Wonderful – he’ll do it!’ she said.
‘You don’t need to check?’
‘No, no,’ Jessica lied. ‘He’s definitely free tomorrow.’ Because I’ll make sure he is, she thought. She knew that if she didn’t get him confirmed, they’d ditch him at the drop of a hat if someone better came along.
‘That’s great! Well, I’ll send all the details through to your email in that case.’
‘Brilliant.’
The phone went dead.
Jessica felt almost rooted to the spot. She’d sent the press release out, but hadn’t really expected a bite. The programme usually only featured people with contentious opinions, or those who’d been on Love Island. Her fairly innocuous psychologist was not controversial enough and – to her knowledge – wasn’t a love rat, had never been arrested, slept with a celebrity, had plastic surgery go terribly wrong, or bared all on a naked quiz show.
This was the kind of opportunity that could take Robert’s book from a small print run to something stocked in all the high-street and online outlets, if he could play his cards right.
Ignoring Anna, who was trying to show her something on her tablet, she picked up her mobile and dialled.
‘Robert, speaking.’
‘Hi, Robert, it’s Jessica from Star PR.’
‘Oh hi. How are you?’ he sounded almost too pleased to hear from her.
‘Great thanks. Look, sorry to ring you on a Sunday eveni
ng, but what are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Not much. I’ve got a few copies of the book to sign for the publishers, but I can do that any time.’
‘Right, in that case you’re going to appear on the Wakey Wakey! sofa with Paul and Hannah.’
‘What?’
‘Yes, I’ve just had a call and they’d like you to appear as an expert tomorrow morning!’ she said. ‘Hello? Hello?’
‘Yes. I’m still here,’ he said, after a pause. ‘It’s just, I’m not sure I can do that.’
‘What? It’s a great opportunity!’ In her wildest dreams, she hadn’t expected him to have any reservations about appearing. Nerves, maybe. Excitement, definitely. But not reluctance.
‘I know. It’s just. Well, I don’t really feel like an expert.’
She chose her words carefully. ‘But Robert, you’re a trained psychologist. And you’ve written a book on happiness. Have you seen the programme? You’re probably the most qualified interviewee they’ll ever have.’
There was a long pause in which she wondered, again, whether he’d hung up.
‘OK,’ he said, at last. ‘It’s just … I’m not sure whether speaking on TV will be my thing.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, sensing victory. ‘Hearing you talk about your book was wonderful the other day – really inspiring.’
‘You really think so?’
‘Definitely.’
‘OK. OK.’ There was a pause. Then, ‘Well, email me the directions,’ he said at last.
‘They’ll send a car. I’ll forward the details to you.’
A pause.
‘Jessica?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is there any chance … do you think you could come with me at all?’
Jessica flicked up her diary and checked. She was booked for most of the day, including the lunch with Bea. But then, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for someone like Robert. ‘Um, you know, I’m not sure I could—’
‘Because, if you can’t. I’m not sure I can …’
‘What about someone from the publishers?’
‘It’s not that! I mean, I know I could do that, but it’s … it’s you.’
‘Me?’
Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down! Page 14
